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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26956603">Artemis and Oliver</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radar_Girl/pseuds/Radar_Girl'>Radar_Girl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adventure, Book 7: The Atlantis Complex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fantasy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:01:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,027</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26956603</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radar_Girl/pseuds/Radar_Girl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in between The Atlantis Complex and The Last Guardian.<br/>Artemis is returning to school after having time off for recovering from the Atlantis Complex.<br/>While at school he meets Oliver, an odd boy with magic.<br/>Misadventures/romance happen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Artemis Fowl II/Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue and One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <b>Prologue</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Extract from the private diary of Angelina Fowl, written in Fowlish – the secret written language of the Fowl women to prevent their nosy men from reading their innermost thoughts and feelings.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I think that I am supposed to be in a state of shock since being told that fairies exist. I think Arty expected it, after I finally wrangled the truth out of him. An impressive achievement if I do say/write so myself and since this is my PRIVATE diary (keep out, boys, I know you've been working hard to translate this) I can write so. Anyone who marries into this family knows how difficult it is to get a Fowl to tell the truth.</p><p> </p><p>But I'm not surprised about the fairies; it makes too much sense.</p><p> </p><p>Among many other things there is the garden. Up until three years ago it has been a struggle for any gardener – no matter how talented- to coax life from the earth into the plants and trees. Too much clay. It was something of a disappointment to me. But now? It is a botanical paradise, heaven in Ireland for the green-fingered enthusiast. Exotic plants that have no business growing in Ireland burst out of the ground, regardless of climate, soil ph, or even if their seeds had been planted there. Frankly, it is becoming something of a jungle back there. And I'm sure I heard growling two days ago.</p><p> </p><p>(Remember to question boys – all of them - about the growling. Remember to check news to see if any animals are missing from zoo. Again.)</p><p> </p><p>It has to be magic. I know it is, even if I don't understand it or appreciate it, or trust it.</p><p> </p><p>Is it a Fairy curse or their idea of being friendly? It's hard to tell. I can't help but be sceptical about them. Arty trusts them, but I don't. Not completely.</p><p> </p><p>From what I know of our family's history the Fairy Folk have been causing trouble for the Fowls for centuries.</p><p> </p><p>I recall now a story Timmy's grandmother, Peg O'Connor Fowl, once told me not long after the wedding. She was a formidable woman even in her twilight years. Terrifying. Initially I dismissed the story as just a legend, a funny fairy tale attributed to the founder of the Fowl dynasty, but now I know there must be some truth in it.</p><p> </p><p>Lady Máire Fowl, wife of Lord Hugh Fowl, went missing one day under mysterious circumstances. She and her maid were riding home after living with her sister for a month. Because the weather was starting to look bleak they took a shortcut through a forest. Suddenly Máire stopped; she said she could hear music. Beautiful music. Strange music.</p><p> </p><p>The maid heard nothing, but Máire insisted that she could and that she must go and discover the source of the music. She disappeared before the maid could stop her. The maid chased after her but all she found was the horse, it's reigns caught on a tree branch.</p><p> </p><p>Messengers were sent to track down Hugh to inform him of the news. He immediately returned from feasting at the king's court and organised a search party to scour the entire forest and surrounding countryside.</p><p> </p><p>Not a trace of Máire was to be found.</p><p> </p><p>Just as Hugh was giving into despair a hunter fostered the courage to claim that Marie must have been taken by the fairies; “they've always had trouble with fairies in these parts.”</p><p> </p><p>Hugh's peers laughed, wanted the hunter flogged, but Hugh didn't laugh. He listened and believed. He urged the hunter to give him every scrap of information he possessed about the Fey Folk. And then he formed a plan.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, Virgil Butler did more than just talk, he promised to accompany Hugh into the Fairyworld to help rescue Máire.</p><p> </p><p>Virgil led the way to a Fairy Fort and there they camped out, hidden by thick bushes, until the night of a full moon when the door was opened and the Fairy Folk came streaming out.</p><p> </p><p>Hugh and Virgil charged into the fort on their horses, the fairies screaming at them as they went. The door slammed behind them.</p><p> </p><p>Some time later the two men and Máire rode out, saddle bags swollen with gold and being chased by fire breathing elves. Hugh was wearing a stolen crown on his head and Virgil was firing Fairy arrows made of lightening. They made it out of the forest without being touched and so Máire and the gold belonged to them. They had made it.</p><p> </p><p>The only downside was that they had no idea that one hundred years had passed in the human world. To them Máire had only been gone for three weeks.</p><p> </p><p>But perhaps when you have gold it doesn't matter so much if all your family and friends are dead and nobody remembers you.</p><p> </p><p>I don't believe that.</p><p> </p><p>Thanks to the Fairies and to magic, Máire was forced into becoming a wife to an unnamed elf. And when she finally made it home she had lost her beloved sister to time. Her sister never got to know that she was alive and well, never got to see her come home.</p><p> </p><p>Thanks to the Fairies, I've nearly lost Artemis several times over. And thanks to him being exposed to too much magic he is unwell. Not himself at all. I worry about him all the time.</p><p> </p><p>While thankful that Arty has finally made some friends, and very thankful that those friends operate on the right side of the law and have morals, I can't help but wish that he would make some human friends. Preferably friends his own age.</p><p> </p><p>Yes, a little less magic and a little more ordinary would be good for Artemis. Good for everyone, I expect.</p><p> </p><p>Tomorrow he starts back at school after having so much time off. I know he's nervous, so I have to be optimistic for him.</p><p> </p><p>I have to believe that he will be happy and well again soon.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>Chapter One</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Butler was suffering from deja vu. He had a to-do list of chores as long as his arm, but found himself stuck on job number 2: transport Artemis to school. It should have been easy to tick off, except that Artemis was hiding somewhere on the manor grounds and clearly didn't wish to be found. It was something Artemis hadn't done since the age of four when he wanted avoid spending the day at nursery school, hence Butler's deja vu.</p><p> </p><p>One time Butler had found the child hiding under <em>his</em> bed in <em>his</em> bedroom in the <em>private</em> apartment he shared with Juliet and his uncle, the only rooms in Fowl Manor that were off limits to the Fowl family themselves.</p><p> </p><p>Butler was not best pleased; Artemis knew the rules.</p><p> </p><p>He knelt beside the bed and gently pulled Artemis out by the wrist. The boy slid out, clutching his book on Classical architecture and cuddly robot. His torch was left behind.</p><p> </p><p>'You're not supposed to be in here, Artemis. You're supposed to be in the car with me and Alison on your way to nursery. Let's go.'</p><p> </p><p>Artemis stayed where he was on the floor. He glared at his bodyguard.</p><p> </p><p>'How did you find me?'</p><p> </p><p>Butler smiled wryly. 'I'll always be able to find you, young man. And you left your chair by the door. No one else here needs to stand on a chair – your chair – in order to reach the handles and keypads.'</p><p> </p><p>Artemis still had yet to master his facial expressions, so his mouth fell open in horror at his own mistake. It quickly became one of anger.</p><p> </p><p>'I despise being small!' he shouted.</p><p> </p><p>'You are growing a little taller everyday. Be patient.' Butler reached out a hand to ruffle Artemis' black hair, but then thought better of it and looked at his watch instead. He was paid and trusted by Fowl Senior to protect Artemis, not to form an emotional bond with him.</p><p> </p><p>'We're going to be late,' he said.</p><p> </p><p>That was of no concern to Artemis. He shuffled backwards on his bottom so that he was sitting against the wall and folded his hands behind his back. There would be no taking him by the hand now.</p><p> </p><p>He gave Butler a petulant look.</p><p> </p><p>'I'm not going. I hate nursery. It's full of stupid children who can't even count to ten. The crayons are always blunt, the paints are lumpy, the teachers are boring, circle time is pointless and....' Artemis shuddered, 'there is always wee on the bathroom floor. And poo.'</p><p> </p><p>Butler could hear his heart strings being plucked. Artemis had started refusing to use the children's facilities, leading to one or two accidents of his own. The shame and anger the child felt as a result of those accidents was palatable.</p><p> </p><p>'I will tell Alison to speak to your teacher,' Butler promised. 'They can clean the toilets before you need to go, but you do have to go to nursery, Artemis. It's what your parents want.'</p><p> </p><p>Artemis said nothing, but clutched his robot tight to his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Butler looked over his shoulder to make sure that the Major wasn't close by.</p><p> </p><p>'I still need to buy Juliet a Christmas present. After nursery will you help me find something? We can stop off at the bookshop and look at the textbooks.'</p><p> </p><p>Alison would not be happy when she found out that Butler was resorting to bribery. Again. But Butler didn't really care because he didn't see it as bribery, just an attempt to cheer his genius ward up. And if Artemis wanted to buy an armload of textbooks, so what? The family could afford it and Artemis had a mind that was in constant need of stimulation and challenge.</p><p> </p><p>The ploy just about worked.</p><p> </p><p>Artemis nodded and clambered to his feet, but still looked glum.</p><p> </p><p>'Very well, Butler, I'll go.' He waved the cuddly robot in his hand so that it's arms flapped around. 'But I'm leaving Pythagoras in the car. I'm not going to let the children get to him. I know what they do to toys like him.'</p><p> </p><p>'Good idea,' said Butler, taking Artemis' hand.</p><p> </p><p>Back in the present Butler had finally tracked Artemis down; it had only taken him one hour five minutes, and he only had to transverse through two secret passageways (one concealed behind a bookcase – classic -and the second behind the large mirror suspended above the fireplace in the old sitting room – hard to imagine Artemis making it up there) before stumbling into Artemis' bolt hole.</p><p> </p><p>'Oh, hello,' said Artemis sheepishly.</p><p> </p><p>Butler looked around in amazement at the secret room. It was only the size of a box room but Artemis still had somehow managed to squeeze in an armchair, bookcase, desk with two laptops, television and mini fridge. Pythagoras the cuddly robot sat forlorn on top of the bookshelf.</p><p> </p><p>'Welcome to my lair. I know it's a little on the small side, but it's a fair price to pay for privacy. Do you like it?'</p><p> </p><p>Butler closed his gaping mouth. 'I do have questions. Lots of questions. But I refuse to ask them now when I know that you'd take advantage of the opportunity to further delay going to school. We have to go. Now.'</p><p> </p><p>'But, Butler, I -'</p><p> </p><p>'No, Artemis, no buts! Both your mother and Dr Argon have made the decision that it's in your best interest to start attending school again. I'm just the man who drives you there and picks you up in the afternoon.'</p><p> </p><p>'So, don't shoot the messenger, eh? Do I take it that the messenger doesn't agree with his superior's orders?'</p><p> </p><p>Butler kept his face and tone neutral. 'I do agree with them. Mrs Fowl wants you to have a more normal life from now on. My definition of normal is quiet, ordinary, no fairies, no magic and no more near death experiences.'</p><p> </p><p>Artemis folded his arms tightly. 'If you want me to avoid death then you would keep me at home – I will die of boredom!'</p><p> </p><p>It was such a typical teenage melodramatic statement to make and it was one that Butler had heard Juliet scream many times, but it was still strange to hear Artemis shouting it. The manservant took in Artemis' tense form and wide eyes and knew that Artemis was feeling terribly anxious. It was hard to look at.</p><p> </p><p>'I'd let you stay at home if I could, my young friend,' Butler murmured. 'But it's not me who makes the decisions about your welfare. And I do sincerely trust the opinions of your mother and Dr Argon.'</p><p> </p><p>Artemis wiped his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>'I can't live a normal life. I'm not normal.'</p><p> </p><p>'No,' Butler agreed. 'But you live in the ordinary human world, surrounded by average, boring, normal human beings. It's to your advantage to learn how to tolerate the mundane and the normal instead of letting it kill you.'</p><p> </p><p>Artemis nodded silently, but still looked miserable. If was himself then he would have surely come up with a withering counter argument.</p><p> </p><p>Butler placed a hand on Artemis' shoulder. 'I promise I'll be waiting for you at three o'clock sharp. And if you're not out by then I'll break in and find you myself. I've never lost you yet, have I?'</p><p> </p><p>'No, Butler, you haven't.'</p><p> </p><p>'Perhaps after school we could go and visit the art gallery. I hear that -'</p><p> </p><p>'You're trying to reinforce my compliance by rewarding me. Don't bother, I'm not a child any more.'</p><p> </p><p>'So, you don't want to go then?'</p><p> </p><p>Artemis was silent for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>'No,' he said eventually.</p><p> </p><p>Butler smiled. A double negative.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <b>Chapter Two</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Oliver Doyle was a boy who thrived on school life. He excelled in every class, was heavily involved in extra curricular activities, and in recognition of his affable nature and desire to help out any boy who was struggling with school life had been made Head Prefect that September.</p><p> </p><p>He also happened to be the only person at St Bartleby's – perhaps even in the whole country - who was aware that Artemis Fowl was the wrong age, even though it was pretty obvious to him.</p><p> </p><p>Oliver couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was about Artemis that made him think, “he's three years too young” and it made his skin feel itchy if he concentrated too hard on trying to puzzle it out; he just knew. But because of the itchy skin problem he was content not to question it too often.</p><p> </p><p>It helped that he had something of a crush on Artemis. Well, quite a large crush.</p><p> </p><p>The infatuation had begun in the previous school year when he noticed that Artemis was incapable of walking through a doorway without bumping his shoulder against the door frame. Oliver saw it first when he had followed Artemis into the English classroom and then again on their way out. Coordination issues, Oliver had thought with a smile. It humanised him in Oliver's eyes, whereas before he had only been the arrogant kid with the slightly strange looking face, the one that everyone was slightly afraid of.</p><p> </p><p>Because they were both in the gifted program they shared most of their classes, which had given Oliver plenty of opportunities to try and befriend Artemis.</p><p> </p><p>His efforts had elicited mixed reactions depending on Artemis' mood. In mathematics he'd attempted to show off but ultimately punched above his weight – Artemis had looked frankly irritated as he explained where he had gone wrong. In drama he'd spoken passionately about his love for Sherlock Holmes – Artemis had nodded politely and little patronisingly, but otherwise his mind was clearly on other matters.</p><p> </p><p>It was only one morning during form time that Oliver had muttered something rude about their tutor under his breath that had caused Artemis' mouth to twitch in an almost smile. Oliver hadn't expected anyone to over hear him, let alone understand it given that he had uttered it in perfectly fluent Old Irish. It was the most pleasant of surprises when he heard Artemis whisper a witty response back that caused him to snort so loudly that the teacher sent him out of the room to compose himself.</p><p> </p><p>Artemis Fowl was funny; who'd have thought it?</p><p> </p><p>Over the summer holiday Oliver spent a lot of time thinking about Artemis and looking forward to the first of September when he would see him again. He even brought Artemis a birthday card but then felt silly, suspecting that Artemis would look down on such trite things as birthday cards. He tore it up.</p><p> </p><p>September came, Oliver returned to school, but Artemis Fowl did not. Dr Poe – their fourth year tutor- muttered something about Artemis calling in sick ,in a tone that suggested that he didn't quite believe it. No one really did. Rumours began to fly like bats.</p><p> </p><p>Oliver felt very disappointed by the news, but was patient enough to wait.</p><p> </p><p>A week passed, and then another, and another.</p><p> </p><p>Still no Artemis, still only vague mutterings about long term sickness.</p><p> </p><p>It was now October and Oliver was beginning to think that maybe Artemis had finally achieved his dream of never setting foot in Bartleby's again and that the school simply didn't how to respond to the loss of their most talented (if difficult) students without loss of face, so kept repeating the strange, vague rumours.</p><p> </p><p>He was on on corridor duty that day, urging and shepherding the nervous first years to their classrooms, so he was fifteen minutes late to afternoon form time.</p><p> </p><p>'Oliver, you are inexcusably late!' Dr Poe reprimanded. 'Even being Head Boy doesn't give you the right to flounce in whenever you feel like it.'</p><p> </p><p>Oliver put on a wounded look.</p><p> </p><p>'Sir, please! Those little ones out there are incapable of finding their way around the school. It's like Hogwarts out there!'</p><p> </p><p>Some of the boys chuckled. They loved to watch Oliver sparring with Poe.</p><p> </p><p>Their laughter caught Oliver's attention and he looked over the class for the first time since 'flouncing' in. Artemis Fowl was sat at the back, looking bored out of his mind. For a moment Oliver's heart seemed to forget that it had a very important job to do.</p><p> </p><p>'I suppose you think that explains the costume.'</p><p> </p><p>Oliver didn't hear him. He was lost staring at Artemis, once again with the certain feeling that something about the boy was not quite right or real or as it should be, something that no one seemed to care about, something that Oliver couldn't quite realise or understand.</p><p> </p><p>'Oliver!' Poe snapped.</p><p> </p><p>Oliver jumped. 'Sir?'</p><p> </p><p>'I was telling you to take that ridiculous costume off! This is school not a fancy dress party!'</p><p> </p><p>Oliver hurried to tear the Ravenclaw robe off, but it got caught on his head. The plastic wand slipped from his grip falling to the floor with a clatter and rolling under Poe's desk.</p><p> </p><p>It was incredibly embarrassing. Oliver could feel the heat radiating from Poe's red face.</p><p> </p><p>He finally succeeded in yanking the robes off his head, leaving his blonde hair sticking up on end. 'Sorry, Doctor, it's for the kids. To make them feel more welcome and less intimidated.'</p><p> </p><p>The look on Poe's face told the whole class loud and clearly that he did not agree.</p><p> </p><p>'Go and sit down,' he said tightly.</p><p> </p><p>'Yes, sir. But, uh, my wand....can I just -'</p><p> </p><p>'No! You've wasted enough of mine and everybody else's time!' Poe snapped and devoted the final ten minutes of form ranting about tardiness and how important it was to make the most of every minute.</p><p> </p><p>Oliver scuttled to his seat, stuck somewhere in-between relief that he was in the middle of the room and so didn't have see Artemis' disapproval of the spectacal and remorse that he would have to wait a little longer to speak to him.</p><p> </p><p>He tried to loiter after the bell rang in the hopes that he could leave the room at the same time as Artemis, but Poe was watching.</p><p> </p><p>'Out you go, Doyle. You don't want to be late again. Not everyone here is as forgiving as I am. Artemis, a word, please.'</p><p> </p><p>Oliver considered heading straight to English Literature, but quickly decided that he'd rather wait for Artemis instead and cunningly hid himself in the dark spot under the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>Artemis slipped out of the door two minutes later, shoulder slumped. He looked straight at Oliver's hiding spot.</p><p> </p><p>'Oliver, I know you're there,' he said, tiredly. 'If you desire to conceal yourself in the shadows then may I suggest that next time you avoid wearing that overpowering Lynx deodorant? I assume you're waiting for me. What do you want?'</p><p> </p><p>Oliver felt his face flush.</p><p> </p><p>'I just....wanted to say hello,' he said shyly, feeling as foolish as a kid presenting their parent with a wobbly crayon drawing and noticing the look of disappointment.</p><p> </p><p>'Oh. Well, now that you have shall we go to class? Not everyone here is as forgiving as the charitable Dr Poe you know.'</p><p> </p><p>Oliver beamed, his confidence soaring once more.</p><p> </p><p>“Shall <em>we </em>go to class”, Artemis had said, as in the two of them, together.</p><p> </p><p>Oliver fell into step beside him. He cleared his throat. 'So, uh, where have you been, Artemis? Poe said you were sick. Is everything okay?'</p><p> </p><p>'Everything is fine,' Artemis fired back in clipped tones, putting an end to the discussion. But even as he said it Oliver once more felt the shiver down his spine that told him that it was a lie. Besides, the lie was evident in his pale face and the dark purple circles under his eyes, the lie that no one seemed to see.</p><p> </p><p>No, Oliver thought, you're not okay, everything is not fine.</p><p> </p><p>'I'm glad you're back, Artemis,' he muttered, looking at the floor. ' I mean, I tried reading an Old Irish poem last week but nobody got it. I think you might have done. It's not the been the same without you.'</p><p> </p><p>He heard Artemis snort and so said nothing more; he couldn't even bring himself to look up.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly he felt the lightest and briefest of touches on his shoulder, a spark of warmth that was there and gone in a flash.</p><p> </p><p>'Thank you, my friend,' he heard Artemis mutter. 'You've no idea how much a friendly face is welcome after a long and difficult journey home.'</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Extract from Rosa Leaf's diary, nurse from The Heart, Mental Health Clinic</em>
</p><p> </p><p>We've had our challenges at The Heart before, but nothing like this.</p><p> </p><p>Not one of our staff had ever interacted with a human before, had never even considered it. We're not the LEP or the Council; our lives are not focused on the happenings of the Earth's surface, but on the sick fairies who need our care and compassion. So, of course we were asking ourselves: how would we care for this one, when we knew so little about them?</p><p> </p><p>You see that's the thing about us at The Heart, we never say no. We'll never say we won't care for you or give up on you.</p><p> </p><p>We just never anticipated having a human to care for, let alone an adolescent one, let alone one who had once been the People's number enemy but now wasn't. What a life he's led.</p><p> </p><p>Even getting his room ready took a bit of thought and research.</p><p> </p><p>Like the People, humans don't do well in the cold, however we couldn't expect an Irish boy to tolerate the heat of the Earth's core for long. The air conditioning was kept on; we wore our cardigans whenever we went in. Cherry even donned her mittens.</p><p> </p><p>Humans are diurnal; further evidence of their wackiness, if you ask me. But for the sake of Artemis' circadian rhythms we switched up the light cycles, allowing him to stay awake during the daytime hours when every other patient was asleep, and helped him to rest through the night. It meant he was separated from the other patients, but perhaps that's no bad thing.</p><p> </p><p>I sat with him one night, with a blanket over my shoulders. He was restless, unhappy. I tried singing an old human lullaby – Welsh, I think – laced with the mesmer.</p><p> </p><p>Any of our teen patients would vehemently deny that our nurses sang them lullabies, but it usually works and it's better than resorting to sedative each time. It made him sleepy enough to yawn, but then he resisted.</p><p> </p><p>'It was all my fault,' he said. A five word sentence.</p><p> </p><p>'What was?' I asked, gently.</p><p> </p><p>'That they are all dead.'</p><p> </p><p>He was referring to Commander Vinyáya and her crew of fourteen Fairies, murdered right in front of him. He breathed in the smoke and scorched air; heard the screams; saw their faces; but it was not him.</p><p> </p><p>He was staring at me with such sad, tired eyes, waiting for my disgust, anger, and judgement.</p><p> </p><p>Artemis Fowl is far from being an innocent person, but murder is not in him. Right then he was a boy who had seen something he shouldn't have and he needed our help.</p><p> </p><p>I realised then that I had never touched him to comfort him. I had hooked him up to a drip, rolled him onto his side, checked his pulse, but had never given him a comforting touch.</p><p> </p><p>I placed my hand over his, stupidly surprised that it felt just the same as a elfin hand, just a little bigger.</p><p> </p><p>'What happened that day was Turnbull Root's doing, not yours,' I told him.</p><p> </p><p>He gave me a look that said he didn't believe me. He drew his hand away and rolled over, turning his back to me.</p><p> </p><p>Poor boy.</p><hr/><p>
  <b>The Class</b>
</p><p> </p><p>The final lesson of the day was Relationship and Sex Education; for this the whole of form 10AP were to endure it together, rather than be separated according to ability. They were, however, instructed by Mr Walsh to sit in alphabetical order by first names.</p><p> </p><p>The old Artemis, the one that came before mental illness, would have been vocally horrified that the whim of his teacher required him to sit at the very front of the classroom next to Alfie, but new Artemis was feeling too tired and achy to protest.</p><p> </p><p>He considered calling Butler, but leaving early would mean being carefully questioned by his mother, his answers analysed. It would be easier to sit and daydream the hour away. Once he was home, he would sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Typical Alfie wanted to chat as soon as Artemis had slumped into his chair.</p><p> </p><p>'Hello, Arty,' he said. 'How was your holiday?'</p><p> </p><p>D'Arvit.</p><p> </p><p>Artemis made the effort to sit up straight. 'What holiday? Do you mean the summer?'</p><p> </p><p>'No, your holiday,' Alfie repeated. 'Someone told me you were on holiday all this time.'</p><p> </p><p>'No, Alfie, I had a breakdown.' He had no energy for cover stories or half lies.</p><p> </p><p>'Oh,' said Alfie. And then, 'Was it the Bentley?'</p><p> </p><p>'No. It was a mental breakdown'</p><p> </p><p>'Oh, never heard of one of them.'</p><p> </p><p>'How fortunate for you.'</p><p> </p><p>'British make is it?'</p><p> </p><p>'That would explain why it keeps breaking.'</p><p> </p><p>Oliver was sat next to Oisin. The two of them had no problem with gossiping away, one being blunt and the other being a natural chatterbox.</p><p> </p><p>'How did your mother's audition go?'</p><p> </p><p>'Very well, thanks. She got part.'</p><p> </p><p>'Good.'</p><p> </p><p>'And how are you, Oisin?'</p><p> </p><p>'Not bad. I seemed to have developed telepathy over the weekend.'</p><p> </p><p>'What?'</p><p> </p><p>'And without trying.'</p><p> </p><p>'What?!'</p><p> </p><p>Oliver had been in the process of lifting his water bottle to his mouth, but his surprise had caused him to throw his arms out. The water bottle spun through the air, soaking Liam. He was not a happy Liam, which in fairness, was not unusual.</p><p> </p><p>'I knew you were going to say that,' said Oisin.</p><p> </p><p>'Boys, settle down, please!' called Mr Walsh. 'When I'm looking for a pen I don't mind you talking, but no silliness please.' He gave up on patting his pockets. 'Can anyone lend me one? Alf?'</p><p> </p><p>'I knew he was going to say that too,' whispered Oisin.</p><p> </p><p>Oliver snorted. 'He never has a pen. You're going to have to try harder than that to convince me. Tell you what, you recite everything Mr Walsh is going to say before he says it. Starting now.'</p><p> </p><p>'Right, boys, listen out for your names.'</p><p> </p><p>Mr Walsh, finally penned, cleared his throat and held the register. 'Right, boys, listen out for your names.'</p><p> </p><p>'Alfie O'Neill.'</p><p> </p><p>'Alfie O'Neill?'</p><p> </p><p>'Artemis Fowl. Nice to see you're back.'</p><p> </p><p>'Artemis Fowl? Oh, nice to see you're back.'</p><p> </p><p>'Bredon Murray.'</p><p> </p><p>'Bredon Murray?'</p><p> </p><p>Oliver rolled his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>'Okay, okay, so I admit that was dumb of me,' he hissed. 'But you still haven't proved yourself to me.'</p><p> </p><p>'Artemis is thinking about fairies.'</p><p> </p><p>Oliver tried to convince himself that Oisin was merely playing a game with him, but it didn't feel like Oisin was lying. There was no hint of it on his face.</p><p> </p><p>Oisin smiled smugly at Oliver's discomfort.</p><p> </p><p>'I'm good, aren't I?'</p><p> </p><hr/><p>AN: Oh, dear, I was nearly finished when I noticed two mistakes in this chapter. The first is that schools don't use paper registers any more, do they? I'm showing my age. The second is that the register should be in alphabetical order by surname not by first name. Mr Walsh was confusing me.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>AN: My fics are always very episodic....hope it's okay!</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Interview Day</b>
</p><p> </p><p>'What was it like in there, Artemis? What kind of questions did she ask? Did she say if you got the job or not? Oh, man, I’m so nervous!’</p><p>Artemis smoothed down his school tie and glanced over his shoulder to make sure that he had indeed pulled the door firmly behind him. Oliver Doyle’s fast spoken round of quick-fire questions had caught him off slightly guard, although he wasn’t entirely surprised to hear it. Oliver had always possessed a jumpy disposition, even from day one of school, earning him the nickname Oliver the Frog, or Froggy Olly. Still though...</p><p>'It’s not a real interview, Oliver,' he reminded the boy, not unkindly. Since his Atlantis Complex diagnosis he had become much more sympathetic towards the neurosis’ of others. 'It’s only pretend.'</p><p>Goodness, he was talking to Oliver as if he were a toddler...not that he didn’t view his peers as possessing the mental ages of toddler’s, some of them still didn’t know their seven times table!</p><p>He fired off a text for Butler to pick him up and sat down on a chair to wait.</p><p>‘But do you think you got it?’ Oliver pressed. He took to smoothing down his blonde hair repeatedly with his fingers. </p><p>‘There is no job, Oliver!’ Brandon called from two seats down.</p><p>‘Yes, there is!’ Oliver hissed. ‘A pretend job and I bet Artemis got it!’</p><p>A collective grumble rippled down the line of waiting boys. Artemis did not like the sound of it.</p><p>‘I may not have done,’ he said, sheepishly. ‘She may not have liked me.’</p><p>‘Why wouldn’t she like you, the boy genius?’ demanded Oliver. ‘Isn’t it true that you’ve done more with your so far short life than Greta? She’d be mad not to pretend hire you!’</p><p>The other boys nodded in agreement.</p><p>‘That’s not the point,’ Artemis told them. ‘It’s supposed to be good practice for the future. If our parents’ money runs out and we need to interview for a job we can think back to this day and put all the skills we’ve learnt to good use. Today might make the difference between Amazon and the job centre.’</p><p>Oliver leapt up onto his chair, a bad habit that had placed him in detention more than once.</p><p>‘Look at that smirk!’ he cried, pointing at Artemis. ‘He’s not taking this seriously at all.’</p><p>‘Sit down, Frog, you idiot!’ Liam snapped all the way from the end of the line. ‘Left-Foot is right, there’s no point to this.’</p><p>‘Don’t talk about him like that!’ Artemis and Oliver said, in union. </p><p>Artemis hid his face in embarrassment, but Oliver grinned; Artemis Fowl had just stood up for him.</p><p>However, his happiness soon gave way to his anxiety again and he played with his tie knot.</p><p>‘Why is she taking so long to call me in?’</p><p>Artemis cleared his throat. ‘Maybe because she hasn’t stopped crying yet?’ he suggested in a whisper.</p><p>‘You made her cry? How? You were only in there for ten minutes.’</p><p>Artemis shrugged. ‘I was told to act as though it were a real interview...’</p><p>‘Which you did.’</p><p>‘Which I did,’ Artemis nodded. ‘So, pretending it was real, I reacted in a way which was real for me....and told her that there was no way I would ever consider stacking shelves for a living and would rather become one of those ridiculous celebrity scientists who are always on the television....and eventually buy out her supermarket, knock it down and turn it into a body farm for forensic study...I may have become caught up in the moment...’</p><p>Oliver’s eyes had widened in horror but then he punched the air.</p><p>‘The pretend job is as good as mine! Thanks, Artemis!’</p><p>‘Please pass on my apologies, I had no idea she would be so affected by my little monologue.’</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>Early Visit</b>
</p><p> </p><p>‘Good morning, Mr Butler. Beautiful morning! Is Artemis up yet?’</p><p>Breezy was always the first word that leapt into Butler’s mind whenever he encountered Oliver Doyle, and he done so a fair few times in recent weeks. Breezy or more like an erratic gust of autumn wind that blew leaves into shop doorways. And never stopped talking.</p><p>‘It’s a little early for Artemis,’ said Butler, cautiously. </p><p>‘But it’s eight o’clock and the sun is shining!’</p><p>‘Yes, I know. But Artemis has always been more of a night owl.’</p><p>‘Good job he was named Artemis them, am I right?,’ said Oliver and then laughed heartily to himself. ‘You get it, right? You know, Artemis being a moon goddess...moon and night...? Please don't look at me like that.'</p><p>Butler forced a smile, the same smile he offered to Artemis when he would crack a “joke”. It had to be the school. </p><p>‘Did West drop you off here?’ he asked.</p><p>‘No, I ran. I go for a run every morning.’</p><p>‘Good man.’</p><p>‘Does Artemis ever go jogging?’</p><p>Butler laughed. Unprofessional, maybe, but it did come from years of trying and failing to persuade Artemis to exercise. </p><p>‘Maybe he’ll come running with me one day.’</p><p>Butler stared at the fourteen year old boy. If he couldn’t persuade Artemis, and if Holly, Foaly, and Dr Argon combined couldn’t persuade Artemis, and even having survived trolls and goblins and pixies by <em>running</em> still all failed, then how could Oliver succeed?</p><p>‘You are free to try,’ he told Oliver. </p><p>It wasn’t that Butler disliked Oliver, it was more that he was still living in quiet disbelief that a peer was interested in Artemis enough to want to visit first thing in the morning. Bullies and enemies was what Artemis had, not friends.</p><p>‘Can I hear the twins? Can I go play with them while I wait for Artemis? I love kids!’</p><p>He had disappeared into the garden before Butler had even had time to open his mouth.</p><p>000</p><p>Artemis stumbled downstairs an hour later. He was met with the sight of Oliver charging around the kitchen with both Myles and Beckett clinging onto him.</p><p>‘Morning!’ Oliver called as he skidded past Artemis when turning a sharp corner around the table. ‘Did we wake you?’</p><p>‘No. How could you when I was already awake after you decided to call my phone?’</p><p>‘Just wanted to give you a subtle nudge. I’ll make you a coffee if that helps.’</p><p>‘Thank you.’</p><p>‘He won’t have coffee,’ Butler interrupted. ‘He’s supposed to be on a caffeine break.’</p><p>Artemis glared. ‘Says who?’</p><p>‘Both your mother and the doctor. Argon. Something you know full well. You can have decaffeinated tea. You can <em>both</em> have decaffeinated tea.’</p><p>Artemis shuddered.</p><p>‘I’ll make it!’ said Oliver, reaching for the kettle.</p><p>‘No, thank you, young man.’</p><p>Oliver instead plunged his hand into his rucksack and produced several books.</p><p>‘Shall we get started?’</p><p>‘On what?’</p><p>‘At school yesterday you said you’d help me learn my lines. For Hamlet. Remember?’</p><p>‘How could I remember when I am quite certain that I never made such a promise in the first place?’</p><p>Oliver looked sheepish. ‘Well, you were asleep when I asked you. But you sounded like you were agreeing with me.’</p><p>Butler raised an eyebrow. ‘Sleeping at school, Artemis? Does it happen often?’</p><p>Artemis suddenly became very interested in Oliver’s battered old copy of Hamlet, flicking the pages as loudly as possible.</p><p>‘Hold on!’ Oliver cried, green eyes shining mischievously. ‘If you had forgotten your promise -’</p><p>‘Hadn’t forgotten. Never promised you anything. I wasn’t conscious.’</p><p>Butler rolled his eyes.</p><p>‘- what did you think I had come here so early for?’</p><p>Artemis shrugged. ‘You just seem the type.’</p><p>‘What type?’</p><p>‘The energetic type who spends all his time dashing from one friend’s house to another.’</p><p>‘I do not....well, maybe during the holidays....Never mind that! Hamlet, Hamlet, Hamlet!’</p><p>‘Well, at least you’ve proven that you’ve memorized the titular character’s name. That’s a promising start.’</p><p>‘There, you see, Mr Butler, I come for the snarky ambiance of Fowl Manor. Couldn’t do without it.’</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Stairs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stairs</p><p>Saint Bartleby’s School had the best of everything and this included, of course, stairs. </p><p>Stairs have their uses, both practical and aesthetically; all the best places have them. They’re good for allowing people to move upstairs and, sometimes, downstairs; it all depends on the whim and needs of the stair walker.</p><p>Unfortunately, some humans possess no natural talent for ascending or descending stairs - descending usually proving to be the trickier of the two - and Artemis Fowl was one of those unfortunates. </p><p>It was Friday afternoon and he and Oliver Doyle had been paired up for Monitoring Duty for the day. </p><p>Monitoring Duty is a neat little arrangement which pleases both the admin team and the students, but not the parents, it has to be said.</p><p>The official line is that Monitoring Duty helps instil into the students a sense of responsibility and pride in the running and efficiency of their school. </p><p>But, in reality it meant a blessed day out of lessons for the students and a pair of willing hands for the office staff to fetch, carry, deliver, cut out, print, and laminate. </p><p>Anyway, since it was nearing the end of the day and Ms Jellyman had promised the boys that if they would quickly move two heavy boxes of old and unwanted exercise books to the janitor’s office so that he could dispose of them, they could leave early.</p><p>Not even Artemis could resist a hook like that, even if it came at the cost of <em>lifting</em> something and potentially getting sweaty and dusty. </p><p>‘And take your time on the stairs!’ Mrs Jellyman called after them. ‘Especially you, Artemis!’</p><p>The stairs in question should have been safe enough. They were stone, but wide, designed with students laden down with heavy books and bags in mind. Even Artemis could manage to wobble one slow step at a time, with his right elbow running down the handrail to help him keep balance. Oliver followed a few steps behind, patiently slowing himself down for Arty’s sake. </p><p>Of course, whoever had designed that particular flight of stairs had not reckoned on how much Oliver “Froggy” Doyle wanted Artemis’ attention, just clumsy Artemis could be and how easily distracted he could be by Olly.</p><p>‘Hey, Arty, listen to this. Okay, so I’m walking down the stair, right? With a heavy box....but at the same time..”Be to not or be to”....I can recite Shakespeare backwards!’</p><p>Artemis -completely forgetting what he was doing, where he was and what he should be concentrating on - attempted to turn around so that he could look back up at the blonde boy and make some snarky come back.....big mistake.</p><p>He slipped, fell back, dropping the box, and cracking the side of his head against the stone step.</p><p>There was blood.</p><p>Oliver dropped his box and jumped the next five steps, landing next to his friend. He called Artemis’ name, gave him a shake, but no response.</p><p>There was more blood.</p><p>Oliver panickly weighed up his options. He should run for help, he was a fast runner, he was good at running....yet, there was no one else about and head injuries could be serious...so...</p><p>Oliver lifted up Artemis’ head just enough so that he could press his middle and index fingers against the wound. Artemis’ blood felt warm and slick.</p><p>Oliver closed his eyes so that he could concentrate easier, to calm himself. He dug deep, deep inside of his mind to where the magic river flowed within. He plunged his hands into the current and ordered it to gush out into the real world. </p><p>A “gush” was being a bit optimistic, Oliver had always found it to be so; instead what he got, what he always got, was a few sticky drops, secreting from his finger tips like tree sap gradually running down a branch.</p><p>You see what Oliver didn’t know, but is obvious to you and me, is that the human race had long since forgotten their magical abilities, that the ancient part of their brain is buried deep under all that new grey matter and neurons for operating electrical toasters and Youtubing.</p><p>But forgotten doesn’t mean gone for good. </p><p>It has been long theorized that humans would remember their magic under certain circumstances. Circumstances such as the Earth slowly dying and crying out for all Her children to help her. But that is just a guess.</p><p>As far as Oliver knew he was the only one who could feel the magic within himself, he had been born like it and instinctively kept it secret. But, in truth he was not the only one.</p><p>Beckett Fowl, for instance, could talk to animals, but all his family simply believed that he had a vivid imagination. Which he did. But he could also communicate with animals. And sponges. </p><p>Oliver focused on rubbing those piffy little drop of magic into the wound, doing everything he could to urge the magic on.</p><p>The bleeding quickly diminished into a dribble and stopped all together. Artemis stirred in Oliver’s arms and opened his mismatched eyes and smiled.</p><p>Here’s the thing about human magic: even though the humans don’t know how to make the most of the drops they still have access to, even a tiny amount works well for healing other humans, leaving them feeling really good afterwards.</p><p>Fairy on Human magic always works well  because we Fairies are just so good at it- as Artemis will know - but Human on Human is even better. It makes them feel warm and fuzzy inside, even Artemis. He was destined to spend the rest of his day giggling at random moments and even said he would go to Disneyland with Beckett. </p><p>He would have been horrified at his own words but he had been too preoccupied to really hear himself.</p><p>Oliver had magic, he was sure of it.</p><p>He had woken up on the stairs feeling wonderful. Artemis Fowl never felt wonderful except for the times that he had been magically healed.</p><p>There had been blood on the steps and on his shirt, but not even the faintest scar anywhere on his head; Butler had checked. Not to mention that the highly embarrassing spot just above his left eyebrow had finally vanished, even after stubbornly surviving every kind of cream available and formulated by himself. </p><p>And then there was Oliver himself.</p><p>‘I’m not a wizard!’ Oliver had blurted out, all of a fluster. ‘And don’t worry about the blood because your head had stopped bleeding now and head injuries are funny like that. Fountains of blood one minutes and then gone the next!’</p><p>‘I...know that you’re not a wizard....’ Artemis said slowly, restraining himself from asking a thousand questions. ‘And yes head injuries can be very unpredictable.’</p><p>‘Good! Good!’ Oliver said, nodding his head repeatedly. ‘We should find someone to clean that up....and, yep, never talk about this...yep, good.’ Then he started to sing nervously under his breath. ‘I’m just a poor Muggle boy, nobody loves me.’</p><p>‘What?’</p><p>‘Nothing! Just composing a little song....Let’s go.’</p><p>Artemis had decided to be considerate. If Oliver didn’t want to confess to possessing magic that was fine by him. It would be their little secret. </p><p>But it wouldn’t stop him from investigating.</p><hr/><p><br/>[This is how Artemis looked in this chapter:]</p><p> </p><p>[And this is how Oliver looked in this chapter:]</p><p>
  
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  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <b>Goodnight</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Artemis Senior – or Timmy, as he was called by his loving wife- gently closed the door to the twin's bedroom; both fast out, thank goodness. Fingers crossed they would stay that way until at least sunrise. Any time after that would be a bonus.</p><p> </p><p>Now for the other one.</p><p> </p><p>Timmy was mildly irritated but not surprised to see the light blazing from under Artemis' door. And the only reason he was irritated was because he'd rather avoid the confrontation that must now happen, but rules are rules and according to their teenager handbook consistency was key.</p><p> </p><p>Haven help him.</p><p> </p><p>He knocked on the door and went in.</p><p> </p><p>Artemis was typing away on his laptop, fingers a blur, and surrounded by scattered papers. It was a hazy vision of intricate looking diagrams, unfathomable graphs, and strange looking words that made not the slightest bit of sense to him. A made up language maybe.</p><p> </p><p>Artemis held up a hand; his eyes were still glued to the laptop screen. 'Father, sorry, but you can't come any closer unless you first remove your contact lens. Or perhaps just close your eyes.'</p><p> </p><p>'I hope it's nothing illegal or immoral.' Timmy fought the urge to snatch the papers off the desk and look for himself.</p><p> </p><p>'It's a personal project,' Artemis explained, wearily. 'Environmental, so I'd say it's highly moral. As for it being illegal – only if I make these ideas a reality. The benefits outweigh any legal considerations.'</p><p> </p><p>Timmy was intrigued. 'Will I ever be allowed to know what these ideas are?'</p><p> </p><p>He took another step forward, but as he did so Artemis placed a protective arm over the papers.</p><p> </p><p>'Father! They're not fully formed yet! You know that I never let anyone see my work until it's complete.'</p><p> </p><p>Timmy raised his hands, a smile on his face.</p><p> </p><p>'Sorry. There was a time when you shared all of your ideas with me. Remember your fairy project?'</p><p> </p><p>Artemis snorted.</p><p> </p><p>'Yes, I do,' he said, hotly. He shuffled the papers together and placed them inside a drawer, locking it. 'And I happen to find it highly embarrassing that I could ever consider that fairies exist. You could have stopped me.'</p><p> </p><p>'You were eight.'</p><p> </p><p>'Too old for believing in fairy tales.'</p><p> </p><p>Timmy shrugged and then cleared this throat.</p><p> </p><p>'I'm here to remind you of the time, Arty. It's now after eleven. I'm assuming that you are now going to shut down your laptop and dutifully go to bed.'</p><p> </p><p>Artemis blinked in surprise. It had been years since his father had told when to go to bed.</p><p> </p><p>Get used to it, Timmy thought.</p><p> </p><p>'It's not usual for me to retire so early. And I still have work to complete. Work, as I've already explained, is vital for the planet.'</p><p> </p><p>'Usual no longer applies, I'm afraid. Remember what we agreed on? Bed at eleven from Sundays to Thursdays. Friday and Saturdays, you can stay up as late as you like.'</p><p> </p><p>'Yes, but -'</p><p> </p><p>'No buts, Arty, this is what your mysterious Dr Argon has recommended – insisted - that you get at least eight hours sleep a night. And, I have to say, I agree. Sleep deprivation is not going to help your OCD or depression, is it? Is it?'</p><p> </p><p>'No,' Artemis agreed. Reluctantly. 'But your teenage parenting handbook specifically states on page twenty-five that teenagers should not have an enforced “bedtime”, but should be trusted to manage their own timetable. You're overparenting, Father. And damaging my self-esteem in the process.'</p><p> </p><p>Timmy laughed. 'I knew you'd read it! Very well, but then you also know that the book states that there may be circumstances where the parents should put their foot down. So, that's what I'm going to do. We both know that left to your own devices you'll work into the early hours, which will ultimately have a negative impact on your mental health. And until you reach the grand old age of eighteen, I am responsible for your welfare, so...'</p><p> </p><p>He clicked his fingers and pointed at Artemis' bed.</p><p> </p><p>'Bed,' he stated.</p><p> </p><p>'Ten more minutes.'</p><p> </p><p>'No.'</p><p> </p><p>'Five minutes.'</p><p> </p><p>'No! Save your work and shut down your laptop. Or I'll do it for you. Bed!'</p><p> </p><p>'I haven't brushed my teeth.'</p><p> </p><p>'Go do it.'</p><p> </p><p>'And I'm still dressed.'</p><p> </p><p>'You may put your pyjamas on first. I'll wait.'</p><p> </p><p>Artemis froze. 'Wait for what precisely?'</p><p> </p><p>Timmy's eyes glittered mischievously. 'I'm going to make sure that you actually get into bed. And then I'm taking your laptop with me.'</p><p> </p><p>'Father!'</p><p> </p><p>'Sorry, but I know you.'</p><p> </p><p>Ten minutes later Artemis had with the highest level of stroppiness thrown himself into bed, pulling the covers tightly over his shoulder, his back to his father.</p><p> </p><p>Timmy sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out a hand to touch Artemis' hair, as he used to when Artemis was young, but he hesitated.</p><p> </p><p>'From a young age you cared for Angelina when she was unwell; you protected the family business and have always supported me through the darkest times of my life,' he whispered in a low voice. 'Please, Arty, don't be afraid to let us to take care of you for a change.'</p><p> </p><p>He quickly kissed Artemis' head and gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.</p><p> </p><p>'Sweet dreams.'</p><p> </p><p>Artemis waited five minutes before booting up his emergency laptop and went back to work.</p><p> </p><p>Sleep was good, but the distraction that constant work provided was even better.</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>The next morning...</p><p> </p><p>Artemis was fighting not to fall asleep at the breakfast table.</p><p> </p><p>'Secret laptop?' Timmy asked, sipping his coffee.</p><p> </p><p>Artemis was too tired to lie.</p><p> </p><p>'Yeah...'</p><p> </p><p>Timmy slurped the coffee loudly, coffee Artemis was not allowed.</p><p> </p><p>'Knew it,' he said with a smirk.</p><p> </p><p>Artemis hated that smirk.</p><p> </p><p>He fell asleep at the table.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>You work too hard</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Class 10AP had a free study period, which usually meant an hour of chatting, but it was also a good opportunity for getting a head start on homework.</p><p> </p><p>Oliver was sat next to Artemis. He tried to focus on writing his history essay, but after fifteen minutes gave up. Artemis, on the other hand, had somehow managed to fill two sheets of paper.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p><em>He's so quick,</em> Oliver marvelled. <em>Always working....ooh, like that song in Hamilton. No, focus!</em></p><p> </p><p>He played with his pen, now was the time.</p><p> </p><p>'Sooo, are you doing anything this weekend?' Super casual.</p><p> </p><p>'Yes, I have a shareholder's meeting.'</p><p> </p><p>'Oh, okay.'</p><p> </p><p>'And then I'm speaking at an environmentalist's conference in Dublin.'</p><p> </p><p>'Ah, so really busy then -'</p><p> </p><p>' Come to think of it, I should probably work out what exactly I'm going to say. It's Butler's pretend birthday -I'm not allowed know when it really is - but I always make him a card. I'm also busy trying to improve the design of affordable solar panels – research that really needs to be completed soon. '</p><p> </p><p>'Slow down, friend.'</p><p> </p><p>'I want to spend time with the twins. Oh, and I'm scheduled to complete a series of essays on the history of Ireland. But that's just for fun. I may have them published.'</p><p> </p><p>Oliver lent back in his chair. 'So, you just work all weekend?'</p><p> </p><p>'You have an objection to how I spend my free time?'</p><p> </p><p>'Yeah, I do,' Oliver grinned.</p><p> </p><p>'Why?'</p><p> </p><p>'Because we're mates and we never spend any time together outside of this stuffy old school!'</p><p> </p><p>'Spending more time together would be nice,' said Artemis, while thinking: <em>I'm studying you for your magic, hee hee.</em></p><p> </p><p>'Yes, yes it would,' said Oliver, while thinking: <em>I've such a huge crush on you, hee hee.</em></p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Oisin, trying to study quietly in the row in front of them, could hear their secret thoughts loudly and clearly. He sometimes considered telling Artemis that he had recently and unexpectedly developed telepathy, but then he would worry about Artemis studying him, which would make Oliver jealous.</p><p> </p><p>So instead he stuck his hands over his ears, pinning his book open with his elbows.</p><p> </p><p>'What's wrong with you?' asked Erin (formally known as Eric), his study partner.</p><p> </p><p>'I have two dorks giggling inside my head,' he explained. 'I'm telepathic.'</p><p> </p><p>Erin blinked. 'Cool.'</p><p> </p><p>Oliver began singing Non Stop inside his head. And Osisn heard it all.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>'Why do you write like you're running out of time?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Writing at night like you're running out of time</em>
</p><p>
  <em>every day you fight like you're running out of time</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why do you write like it's going out of style?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Write day and night like it's going out of style?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Every day you fight like it's going out of style</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He pulled the textbook over his head.</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Secrets and Conspiracies</b>
</p><p> </p><p>They were used to Foaly's paranoia, but usually they only had to indulge it within working hours; this was different. They were all off duty and had been invited to Foaly's home on the pretence of sharing a takeaway and beer.</p><p> </p><p>Trouble was the most put out when the centaur practically dragged them through the door and ordered them to drop their phones into a lead lined box.</p><p> </p><p>'Just go with it,' Holly whispered to him.</p><p> </p><p>She was a little less amicable when Foaly squashed a tin foil hat on over her ears, and just after she had moisturised them, too.</p><p> </p><p>'Just go with it,' Trouble reminded her with a smirk.</p><p> </p><p>Foaly pushed them into the kitchen. He fired glares at the shadows around as he dimmed the lights, just in case there were spy cameras there.</p><p> </p><p>'Listen to me very carefully, I shall say this only once,' he said.</p><p> </p><p>'What?' said Holly, although actually her hearing was really sharp, even with a tin foil hat concealing her ears.</p><p> </p><p>'I didn't catch that,' added Trouble, although his hearing was also really sharp. It's an elf thing. 'Your voice is all horse, Foaly. Are you okay?'</p><p> </p><p>'I'm fine,' Foaly hissed. 'I'm speaking in secret tones.'</p><p> </p><p>'Oh.'</p><p> </p><p>'Ah.'</p><p> </p><p>'Don't interrupt! I shall repeat this only once.' Foaly lent in closer across the table, pushing aside Cabelline's fruit sculpture of a unicorn. 'Gentle fairies, there is magic among us.'</p><p> </p><p>His friends groaned loudly. Holly screwed up her tin foil hat into a ball and threw it at his head.</p><p> </p><p>'Yes, Foaly. That is true. Now, can we order food?'</p><p> </p><p>'Don't do that, people can read your thought now! Meditate while I make you another...Think blank thoughts...'</p><p> </p><p>As he was working, Trouble asked, 'Can you crazy while you elaborate, Foaly?</p><p> </p><p>Foaly nodded, but focused most of his attention on folding the sheet of tin foil. 'There is magic all about us and not all of it is within us, within the fairies I mean.'</p><p> </p><p>He pushed the new hat towards Holly, who knew she had no real choice but to don it.</p><p> </p><p>Trouble's screwed up tin foil hat bounced off his shoulder. 'You burbling.'</p><p> </p><p>Foaly wagged a finger at him. 'See, I knew you'd do that. That's why I made several prepared for you.' And he fetched a spare from a cupboard.</p><p> </p><p>'Couldn't I have had one of those?' asked Holly.</p><p> </p><p>'How many did you make?' asked Trouble.</p><p> </p><p>'Not your size. Seven. Now, let's be serious,' he said, adjusted his own hat. 'What I have to say must not be shared outside of this room. Humans are regaining their magic.'</p><p> </p><p>Trouble and Holly swapped a brief glance. Trouble scrunched up his hat. This time it bounced off Foaly's nose.</p><p> </p><p>'Childish. Okay, I knew you wouldn't believe me straight away. Fair enough. So let your eyes munch on this kid, from America.'</p><p> </p><p>He pulled up a grainy hologram of a baby human boy with a burst of flames shooting out of his tiny mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Trouble shrugged. 'It's called fire eating, Foal. Some Mud People do it as a party trick. Others just light their farts.'</p><p> </p><p>Holly nudged him into silence with a sharp elbow.</p><p> </p><p>'Firstly, obviously there's more to it than that, so shut up for two seconds and hear the centaur out. And secondly, do you really think a baby could do that, seriously?'</p><p> </p><p>Foaly clapped his hands nervously.</p><p> </p><p>'His name is Andre Price. He's nine months old and was one of Turnbull Root's mesmer victims in Mexico. Look, here's some left over CTTV footage of him spin kicking Butler in the head. For those of you who are hard of thinking, I'm saying that Turnbull's mesmer awoke the baby's magical abilities and now he's shooting fire out of his nose instead of milk.'</p><p> </p><p>'We're going to need more than that, Foaly. Even humans with the most basic of tech could have added those flames in just to make a funny video.'</p><p> </p><p>Foaly nodded. 'Still not convinced, then? Fine, then try watching this. The mom posted it on Facebook.' He clicked his fingers to pull up a short video and set it playing.</p><p> </p><p>The infant was sat in a high chair, smearing spaghetti over the tray and his own chubby cheeks. At first he was just making the usual babbling noises, but then to Holly's horror realised that among those incorherant noises was a Gnomish nursery rhyme.</p><p> </p><p>“On a hot summer's day, Elf and Dwarf went to play. But poor Dwarf was sizzled and it made whiny Elf grizzle: I'll never go above ground again!”</p><p> </p><p>A woman's voice exclaimed, 'What language is that? Oh, so cute that he's made his own language!'</p><p> </p><p>There the video ended.</p><p> </p><p>Holly was first to collect her thoughts. 'Assuming that this isn't a prank, then Foaly is right. No one could teach an infant to speak Gnommish that clearly. Even Artemis' struggles with his pronunciation. As for The Elf and The Dwarf, we were all babies when it just came to us, a gift from Danu.'</p><p> </p><p>Foaly banged the table with his palm. 'I've said it before so many times and I'll say it again: we need to keep a closer eye on the Muds who come into contact with magic! Who knows what it does to their little brains!'</p><p> </p><p>Trouble stood up. 'We need to take this to the Council.'</p><p> </p><p>Foaly caught his arm, pulling him back down.</p><p> </p><p>'No, we don't. We need to observe and wait.'</p><p> </p><p>'Why?'</p><p> </p><p>'Because they always panic and make bad decisions based on that panic. Think about how they'd react if we shared what we know. And then think about it some more - Ireland is the most magical place on the planet, so there could be more Andre Prices, right? Right? More yummy data for us to collect and get a better idea of what's going on before we go running to Mummy and Daddy at the Council.'</p><p> </p><p>'He could just be an anomaly. A one off.'</p><p> </p><p>'But he's not, is he? Our own Mud Boy stole a few sparks of magic and that's all it took for him to hear the monthly chanting and possess the Mesmer and healing powers. Sure, it messed his head right up, but it stuck! And it shouldn't have! It should have burst through him – in one end and out the other - like a hot tin of prunes!' Foaly lowered his voice to a whisper, eyes gleaming in excitement, 'We could be watching evolution in action, my friends! Intriguing, isn't it?</p><p> </p><p>He beckoned a hairy finger and they all lent in close together over the table.</p><p> </p><p>'We must be extremely careful with this information,' Foaly hissed. 'There could be spies everywhere. They could be watching us at all times, ready to pounce on us, ready to do us some kind of evil when we least expect it.'</p><p> </p><p>Then a croaky, ghostly voice wheezed into Trouble's left ear, 'Excuse me, dear -'</p><p> </p><p>'Argh!'</p><p> </p><p>'Eeeh!'</p><p> </p><p>'Wahh!'</p><p> </p><p>The wrinkled face of wizened centaur had pushed its way into the huddle and was now looking not too pleased at the welcome she had received.</p><p> </p><p>'There's no need to scream, young elf,' she reprimanded with a wave of her cane.</p><p> </p><p>'I didn't scream!' Trouble snapped, although he totally had.</p><p> </p><p>Foaly smoothed down his mane.</p><p> </p><p>'Mama, there's no need to sneak up on us like that,' he said.</p><p> </p><p>'I did not sneak, Foaly; I was only trying to say hello! As it happens I've no interest in listening to you and your funny friends swapping conspiracy theories. Now, where is Caballine and those grandkiddies of mine?'</p><p> </p><p>'Out back,' said Foaly.</p><p> </p><p>'Can we eat now?'</p><hr/><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p> Thanks for reading!</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
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  <b>The Prefect</b>
</p><p>Dr Argon had told Artemis that he should find “light-hearted” projects to occupy his thoughts, and put aside the high-stakes business (criminal) activities and Earth saving ventures for the time being; they would wait for him.</p><p>Artemis had told him that although he clearly did not understand how business worked the suggestion was a fair one. </p><p>‘You’ll be pleased to hear that I already have started a couple of different projects.’</p><p>‘Which are?’</p><p>Artemis had shrugged. ‘Just dull school projects.’ Five syllables, good.</p><p>It wasn’t a complete lie. He was researching the murky history of magic in humans and his only subject for observation happened to be another student in his school… in his year…in the same gifted and talented classes…they often sat next to one another… they worked on the tasks together when group work was required….they visited each others homes…</p><p>Some (everyone) would say that Artemis had a crush on Oliver Doyle (a five syllable name) and that discovering that Oliver possessed a small amount of magic had given Artemis the excuse he needed to get close to Oliver without having to admit that he liked Oliver. </p><p>Artemis would deny this and have you destroyed.</p><p>Oliver would be delighted.</p><p>It was Monday morning and Oliver was performing his duty as a prefect by supervising the Student Lounge before school began. He was dressed up as a pirate; Long John Silver to be accurate.</p><p>   He hopped up on the coffee table on just one leg (Artemis neatly slid himself and his laptop over out the way of his boot) and waved his plastic cutlass at a gaggle of Year 7s drinking hot chocolate.</p><p>‘Drink up me hearties, yo ho!’ Oliver sang at them. ‘Mornin’ assembly be on the horizon and that scurvy dog, Headmaster No Brain, will force any cad to walk the plank if they be late. Ain’t that right, Arty, me lad? Arty?’</p><p>He nudged Artemis with his crutch. Artemis flinched but caught on, rather unenthusiastically. He had been quickly typing up a note about Oliver’s ability to leap up on tables using only one leg and then being able to balance on that leg without toppling over. Such physical process had to be due magic. </p><p>He tried to glare at the Year 7s. ‘Shiver me timbers…’ Five syllables again.</p><p>One boy rolled his eyes. ‘You two are strange. Let’s go, lads.’</p><p>
  
</p><p>Artemis looked up at Oliver. ‘Why do you always dress up for prefect duty?’</p><p>Oliver jumped down onto the sofa. ‘Meh, it started because I wondered if I would be allowed to get away with it, so I took a dinosaur costume from the drama department -’</p><p>‘Yes, I remember. I tripped over your tail.’</p><p>‘-and nobody stopped me, so I carried on. But mostly I do it because it’s fun.’ His brown eyes flashed. ‘Why don’t you join me?’</p><p>‘No.’</p><p>‘Oh, but -’</p><p>‘No, never.’</p><p>Oliver’s expression suddenly became serious. ‘Hey, is everything alright, Artemis? You looked worried.’</p><p>Artemis almost laughed, bitterly. There it was, the heightened empathy. The ability to look into his soul and see what was hidden, even though no one else could find it.</p><p>He would make a note of that too.</p><p>‘My mother has returned to her favourite spa, in the south of France.’</p><p>He wanted to share but he also wanted to test just how perceptive Oliver was.</p><p>Oliver bit his lip and looked at up the ceiling.</p><p>‘Your mother…’ he said, so softly that Artemis almost couldn’t hear him, ‘She gets sick sometimes, doesn’t she?’</p><p>Artemis said nothing. He didn’t have to. It felt strangely good to just have someone understand.</p><p>Oliver sat up straight. ‘I’m sorry to hear it, Artemis. But, she’ll be okay. So will you.’</p><p> Suddenly, Artemis was all emotion, heart racing, blood pounding in his ears. He quickly tapped his foot five times and slammed his laptop closed.</p><p>Such anger was irrational, he knew that, but he couldn’t hold back the fury he felt towards his mother, his father, even towards the twins.</p><p>Unconsciously he tried to rush away, but Oliver had gently caught hold of his wrist and wasn’t going to let go. 'Artemis?'</p><p>Artemis couldn’t even look at him.</p><p>‘It’s not fair.’ He heard his voice crack.</p><p>‘What isn’t?’</p><p>Artemis brushed away his tears with the back of his hand. He felt that since he had already humiliated himself he may as well bear his soul to Oliver.</p><p>‘Life, Oliver, just life. I'm tired of therapy and medication that leaves me exhausted all of the time.' He sniffed, smiled with wet mismatched eyes. ‘I am childish, you see. I want to wish this sickness away without putting any work in.'</p><p>Everything went black for a moment when Oliver dropped his pirate hat onto Artemis’ head and it slipped over his eyes.</p><p>‘You don’t look childish to me,’ Oliver whispered. ‘You look like a pirate who’s been forced to stay on dry land for too long when what he needs to do is have adventures and hunt for gold.’</p><p>Artemis pushed the hat back.</p><p>‘You’re really pushing the pirate thing. I am not going to dress up for you.’</p><p>Oliver grinned. ‘But you will come and have adventures with me.’</p><p>‘Very well. But, since I’m being so uncharacteristically honest….I know you have magic.’</p><p>Oliver’s face froze.</p><p>
  
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